For Whom The Bell Tolls
by pindergast
Summary: "That was his trademark, the bell. The dog would wear it around his neck. That's how you knew he was coming. It would be the last sound his victims would ever hear." Rated T for descriptions of violence and minor language.
1. Prologue

**Hello! Again, as I have temporarily abandoned ****_Atlantis_****, I'm starting a new story. I'm really excited to start it, but I should mention that it won't be 'exactly' like my other ones. It will involve minimal travelling and action; most of it will be questioning witnesses, investigating the crime, and the like. This is meant to be more of a brain teaser, and I encourage you to try to figure it out along with the characters.**

***Inspired by Gyakuten Kenji 2 : The Imprisoned Turnabout***

**Enjoy! :)**

* * *

**Prologue**

_Ring...Ring...Ring…_

The bell chimes…

_Ring...Ring...Ring…_

The hall is dark...empty. The lights flicker, the killer's face hidden in the shadow.

_Ring...Ring...Ring…_

A figure moves unseen.

_Ring...Ring...Ring…_

Blood pools on the floor, not a sound to be heard.

_Ring...Ring…_

The killer retreats, blood dripping from his mouth.

_Ring…Ring..._

The canine returns to his master, the task complete.

_Ring..._


	2. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1 **

**10:11 AM - Pentonville**

"What's that smell?" John thought aloud when he entered the room alongside Sherlock and Lestrade.

Sherlock, however, was too preoccupied with the dead body before them to answer the question.

They were in HM Prison Pentonville, having been called in by Lestrade to investigate the murder of Marcus Wagner, a prisoner. The unusual circumstances of the crime warranted the help of the world's only consulting detective.

The body was found in the recreation room, an area set aside for the leisure of the prisoners.

"He was found a bit before 9 this morning," Lestrade explained as Sherlock stepped closer to the body. "Marcus Wagner, 37, recently arrested for an attempted assassination."

"'Recently'?" Sherlock wondered. "Had he been convicted?"

"No," Lestrade said, perplexed, "His trial was supposed to be tomorrow. He was being held in detention."

Sherlock knelt beside the body. There was a pool of blood around his neck, but he couldn't see the wound-

"But this room is part of the prison, not detention," Sherlock said, "He shouldn't have been here at all."

Lestrade nodded. "Security is tight. There's no way he could have made it here without being seen."

"Seriously, I'm I the only one who think it smells _sweet_ in here?" John demanded.

Sherlock ignored John and continued to examine the body.

The victim wore a neck brace, which concealed the wound itself, but it was obviously the site of the insult.

The body was partially covered by a canvas tarp with orange and white stripes, but it had been sullied by a bloodstain, as well a short bundle of rope draped over the sheet. Both these and the sheet had spots of dirt on them. Some sort of portable chess set lay next to the body. Sherlock made a mental note of all of these.

"Why is he wearing a neck brace?" Sherlock asked.

"He hurt it during the attempted assassination. Not sure exactly what happened-wait, what are you doing?! Don't-"

Sherlock was removing part of the sheet to uncover the victim's hand. On his finger was an unusually ostentatious ring.

"Nothing of importance," Sherlock reassured Lestrade. "Have you found the weapon?"

"No. We-"

Sherlock turned to a guard who had accompanied them, "Who has access to this room besides personnel?"

The guard seemed surprised that Sherlock had spoken to him, "What? Oh...uh...well, prisoners are allowed, but they need to be escorted. S-See, they all have these...er…"

"Every prisoner wears an electronic bracelet," Lestrade explained, "that triggers an alarm whenever they pass through a doorway. They need someone with them who can disable the alarm, otherwise they receive an electric shock."

John's eyes widened, "That's very...high-tech."

"It's new," the guard said, "So far, it's worked pretty well-"

"Yes, I can see that," Sherlock said sarcastically, nodding towards the body. "Did the victim have one of these bracelets?"

"No, sir," the guard said. "Only prisoners."

"So prisoners cannot move freely about the prison, so…" John mused, "...is there anyone else?"

"Well…"

"What?" Sherlock insisted.

The guard's face twisted, "I'll show you," he said, and led them out of the room and into the main hall, where the prisoners resided.

* * *

"See, we have this adoption program for the prisoners," the guard said as Sherlock and John gaped at the variety of animals wandering around. There were several breeds of dogs and only a few cats, but most of them were in the cells along with their owners.

"They say it's good for the prisoners, taking care of animals," the guard continued, "Kind of like therapy. They're completely responsible for caring for their pet, but the animals are free to wander about, even without their owner."

"How?" John asked.

"They all have microchips inside of them, which allows them to open doors without the assistance of one of us."

Sherlock and John turned to him, shocked by this new information.

The guard shrugged, "It's all experimental."

Before anyone could respond, a faint sound from around the corner resonated through the hall.

_Ring...Ring...Ring…_

A large, baleful mastiff with a coarse black coat came shuffling in their direction. A small gold bell was tied around its neck, which rang as his he trotted along.

It stood out against the other, smaller animals, all of whom seemed to cower away from the black dog.

It stopped when it reached Sherlock. It stared sharply at him, and soon began to bark aggressively. The sound produced thundering echoes through the hall, catching the attention of some of the prisoners. With one last growl, the black dog ran past the group and down another dark corridor.

Sherlock watched carefully as to where it was going, but a voice behind him brought him back.

"I'd stay away from that one," a prisoner said from inside his cell.

John peered into the cell, "Who, the dog?"

The prisoner grunted, "That, too."

Sherlock turned back to the hallway the dog had retreated to. The sign above the entry read 'Solitary Confinement'.

"Who's in there?" John asked, more to himself.

"We don't talk about him."

"Why not?" Sherlock asked.

The prisoner leaned forward, letting his face be seen, "I said...we don't talk about him."


	3. Chapter 2

**Suggested Reading Soundtrack (for pretty much the rest of the story): _Animus Vox -_** **The Glitch Mob**

* * *

**Chapter 2**

**10:24 AM - Pentonville**

The prisoner was fairly short in stature, but still appeared menacing. His face was wrinkled and his hair was sparse and hoary. He must have been in his late 60s, but it was hard to tell due to the dim light of his cell.

By his side was the silhouette of a dog, which remained quiet and static.

"This is Luther Weiss, in for double homicide," a guard noted.

Weiss grunted, "7 years in this hell hole," he lied down on his small bed lazily and looked as if he wanted to fall asleep. When he saw Sherlock's curious glare, he frowned, "Do you want something, or what? 'Cause if this about that poor bloke this morning…"

"You seem tired," Sherlock said.

"Well, yeah...I was sleeping till that damn dog woke me up," he whined, referring to the dog barking at Sherlock.

Weiss sat up and leaned further into the light. Sherlock could see a bead of sweat dripping down his forehead, and his breath was heavier than he would have expected.

"Really? Because it looks like you've been quite active recently. Working out, perhaps?"

"Wh-well, I like to every once in a while, but not today. I just told ya...I was sleeping."

"If you have been sleeping this whole time, then how did you know about the murder this morning?"

Weiss seemed taken aback. "I-er-"

"We didn't tell any of the prisoners about the murder, sir," the guard whispered to Sherlock and John.

"So you _were _awake," Sherlock concluded.

Weiss scoffed, "What does it matter?"

"The crime scene isn't too far from here. You must have seen something."

"I didn't see nothing."

Sherlock rolled his eyes. "Did you hear anything, then? Perhaps voices coming from the other room?"

"No."

"Mr. Weiss," Sherlock stepped closer to the prisoner, "Let me repeat. You're cell is not ten yards from the crime scene. Now tell me, _what did you see?!_" Sherlock yelled.

"Shh," Weiss indicated. The dog by his side began tugging at his pant leg. "You're making the animals nervous again."

Sherlock paused.

_Again?_

_A raised voice must have upset the animals earlier, as well._

"Are you sure you didn't hear anything unusual earlier...a scream, more specifically, that upset the animals?"

Weiss glared at Sherlock, fuming. "So what. There was a scream. It's not like that's gonna help."

"You're being quite secretive, Mr. Weiss," John said.

He didn't seem to hear him, "Look, recreation ended at 10 this morning. I went right back to my cell, and started training on my own. Nothing intense, just some boxing," he nodded to a punching bag in the corner of his cell. "That's when I heard the scream. It sounded like someone saying, 'Help! I've been stabbed!' or something."

"How did you acquire this type of equipment?" Sherlock asked, referring to the punching bag.

Weiss smirked and checked to see if the guard was listening. "The Supplier. He'll give you anything, if you ask for it."

Sherlock furrowed his brow. "Who is he?"

He scoffed. "We don't talk about him."

Sherlock stepped back, skepticism written all over his face.

"Anyway-" Weiss tried to continue.

"The victim died of a wound to the throat," Sherlock said casually, "I doubt he would have been able to scream, since death was probably instantaneous," he shrugged jeeringly.

Weiss was silent.

"You didn't hear anything, did you?"

"...No…"

"Then why were you trying to hide this fact?"

"Look, it was the guy next door who heard the scream...ask him about it."

Sherlock stepped back to see the prisoner sitting in the cell adjacent to Weiss. "Well?"

The prisoner looked up, startled. "What?" he snapped.

"You heard a scream," John said. "Could you tell us about it."

The prisoner crossed his arms, "Not much to tell. It was just a… 'AAAH' kinda scream. Came from the rec room."

Sherlock was disappointed by the insufficient description, but it would have to do.

_If this prisoner heard the scream, then why didn't Weiss?_

"Detective Inspector!" another guard jogged towards Lestrade. "A suspect has been arrested."

"Excuse me?" Lestrade seemed just as shocked as Sherlock and John.

"He's in detention-"

"Wait, why wasn't this run by me first?" Lestrade demanded.

"Dimmock's taken charge of the case, sir. But I thought you'd still like to know."

Lestrade stood in stunned silence. The guard nodded and hurried away.

"Well then," Lestrade sighed.

"Lestrade-" Sherlock began.

"Dimmock's not gonna let you work with him, I'm sure," Lestrade turned to Sherlock. "Even though he's in charge, I still have authority."

"But you might-"

"There's something..._off_ about this case. Something's not right. And I have a feeling you can figure it out," Lestrade pointed to Sherlock. "I'm staying, if you are."

Sherlock and John were silent for a moment.

"There may be restrictions as to where we can investigate," Sherlock noted.

Lestrade shrugged. "Like I said...I'm staying."

Sherlock sighed.

"Then let's see this suspect of ours," John said.


	4. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

**10:31 AM - Pentonville - Detention Center - Visitors' Room**

"Jeremy Cross...n-nice to meet you," the suspect introduced himself after meeting Sherlock and John.

He was an average man, late 30s, with nothing unusual about him. Sherlock noted that he seemed very nervous, which was understandable, given his situation. His eyes were red and bloodshot, however, as though he had been crying.

"Mr. Cross," Lestrade began, "we're from NSY, currently working on your case. We're going to need you to tell us everything you know."

Cross nodded, "I-I'll do my best…"

Lestrade excused himself to find any other witnesses, allowing Sherlock to begin his interrogation.

"Now, I need you to be completely honest...did you, in fact, murder Marcus Wagner?"

"No!" he yelped, his eyes now wide, "I would never kill him…"

"Oh? 'Him'? Did you know the victim?"

"Yeah...Marcus was my best friend."

"You were friends with an accused assassinator?"

"...It wasn't like him...I never would have imagined he would do something like that. But, that was the only reason I was here. After he was arrested, I came to visit him. He had asked me to give him his chessboard, I guess to keep himself entertained."

_That's where the chessboard came from...it was lying next to the body._

"Is this the only justification behind your arrest?" John asked.

Cross shrugged, "They didn't tell me much."

"We need more information before we can proceed," Sherlock said to John. "Thank you for talking with us, Mr. Cross. We'll be back."

* * *

**10:35 AM - Pentonville - Detention Center - Hallway**

"That was...brief," John muttered as they left the Visitor's Center.

At the end of the hall, they saw Lestrade talking to a woman, who Sherlock assumed was some sort of prison guard, based on her uniform.

_Middle-aged, hair dyed blonde, warden's uniform?...Two...no, three cats, low self-esteem, habitual liar. _

"Sherlock, John, I'd like to introduce you to Pentonville's warden, Ms. Jane Killian. Ms. Killian, this is Sherlock Holmes and his assistant, Dr. John Watson."

"I've heard all about you, Mr. Holmes," she greeted them, "It's a pleasure to finally meet you."

"Thank you," Sherlock said, "Would you mind answering a few questions regarding the investigation?"

"B-But I already spoke with the Dimmock-"

"We're...working independently," Lestrade said cautiously.

"Oh…" Killian seemed skeptical, "A-Alright, then. What would you like to know?"

"Where were you this morning when the crime took place?"

"I was attending the play in the courtyard...where else?"

Sherlock paused, "A..._play_?"

"You didn't know? A local theatre group put on a small play in the courtyard this morning from about 8 to 10. Most of the prisoners were there, save a few."

Sherlock wasn't sure what to say. This was a critical point he was unaware of.

_If the murder took place inside, everyone who attended the play has an alibi…_

"Is there anything else, Mr. Holmes?"

"What? Oh, er...no, thank you."

Killian nodded, "Well, I'll let you get back to your investigation. It was nice to meet you both." And with that, she left down another corridor.

"Now what?" John asked.

"This play could narrow down the suspects," Sherlock said. "We need to find out who didn't attend."

"What about the prisoner who screamed? We should figure out who that was," Lestrade suggested.

"Wait, I thought it came from the victim? He could have screamed before he was stabbed," John mused.

"It's not impossible," Sherlock said, "But we can't prove that unless this screaming prisoner doesn't exist.

"It must have been coming from the rec room, if they assumed it was the victim."

* * *

**10:39 AM - Pentonville - Prison - Hallway**

The trio proceeded to the recreational room, the crime scene, but to the right, there was another door. Above it, there was a label that read, 'Workroom B'. The label above the crime scene read, 'Workroom A'. Sherlock caught the attention of a nearby guard.

"What is the purpose of two recreational rooms?"

"Oh, er, Room A is specifically for the prisoners...books, drawing, stuff like that. Room B is for the prisoners and the animals. They like to play with them in there, or something."

"Is there anyone in Workroom B?" Sherlock asked.

"Yes, sir, just one prisoner and his dog. Would you like to speak with him?"

_They allow prisoners outside of their cells during a murder investigation?! First the animals, now this...this prison is more lax about their security than I thought._

Sherlock nodded, and the guard opened the door. He ushered out a prisoner with his dog close behind.

If he had not had on a uniform, Sherlock would not have guessed that he was a prisoner. When he walked, he had a sort of skip in his step, and an enthusiastic smile was etched onto his cleanly-shaven face, so much so that it seemed fake. But Sherlock could not tell whether or not this was some sort of elaborate façade.

"Hello," he chirped, "can I help you?"

Sherlock proceeded with caution, "Sherlock Holmes. We're investigating the murder that took place thi-"

"Oh, I know...what a tragedy," his face drooped suddenly in despair. "A murder...in a _prison _of all places!"

They remained silent.

"My name is Jack Frazier," he shook a reluctant Sherlock's hand. "I'm afraid I won't be of much help...I didn't see anything," he said quickly.

_Is this guy for real? _John thought.

Sherlock narrowed his eyes.

_Mid-thirties, fair personal hygiene, possible anxiety disorder, though in denial...kleptomaniac. _

Frazier laughed to himself, "Really...I can't help you."

"I never asked if you could help us," Sherlock said calmly.

"...Well, I just assumed…"

"Where were you at 9 o'clock this morning?"

Frazier seemed to think for a moment, "I...I was in here, actually," he motioned towards Workroom B. "I was playing with this little guy," he reached down to pet the small brown dog at this feet. Sherlock noticed the electronic bracelet around Frazier's wrist.

"Did you see or hear anything unusual?"

"I heard something...it could have been someone from Workroom A, but I can't be sure."

"Was it, perhaps, a scream?"

Frazier nodded slowly, "Yes...that could have been it."

_A scream would be quite distinct…_

"Are you good with the animals?" Sherlock asked.

Frazier's eyes seemed to light up, "Yes, very much so. I find them to be quite calming...even when they're frightened, I can still manage them."

"Were they frightened this morning?"

"No, I don't think so."

"But you just admitted there was a scream. Other witnesses claimed that the animals were startled," John said.

Frazier was growing anxious, "W-Well…"

Sherlock was silent.

"Look...the scream...it-it belonged to whoever discovered the body, right? So-"

"We never said it belonged to the discoverer," Sherlock said. "I would have assumed it was the victim."

_It looks like Frazier was the one who screamed._

"You were the one who discovered the body, weren't you?"

Frazier deflated, "...Yes."

"Hiding this was pointless. But regardless, are you willing to tell us what actually happened?"

Frazier sighed. His façade was slowly deteriorating. "I was finished in Workroom B. As I left to go back to my cell, I looked through the window into Workroom A."

"What window?"

"There's a little window on the door that looks into the room."

"Why did you look through the window?" Lestrade asked.

"I had heard some odd noises inside. That was when I saw the body-"

"So you say that you had to leave Workroom B in order to look through the window. However, you're bracelet would have triggered an alarm if you passed through the doorway," Sherlock said.

"Oh...well, you see, if you keep the wrist with the bracelet inside the doorway, you can lean out and see through the window, which doesn't set off the alarm."

"Then did you see what was causing these 'odd noises' in the room?"

Frazier paused.

"Do not try to hide anything from us," Sherlock insisted, "Now tell us...what did you see? The murderer?"

"This is why I was trying to hide it. You're probably not going to believe me."

Sherlock rolled his eyes. "Trust me, I've seen some incredible things during my career. I think I can handle it."

Frazier sighed, "I saw the murderer," his voice started shaking. "It was biting the victim's neck."

He took a deep breath. "It was a dog, Mr. Holmes...a giant, black dog."


	5. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

**10:45 AM - Pentonville - Prison - Hallway**

Sherlock wasn't sure how to react. Frazier's account had caught him off-guard.

_A...dog? _

He suddenly remembered his experience in Baskerville-the menacing hounds that pursued them, only to be hallucinations. As terrifying as it was, a killer hound was simply out of the realm of possibility.

"M-Mr. Frazier, could you give us a few more details about this...dog?" John stuttered.

Frazier had seemingly recovered from the initial shock, "He was already dead. The dog was biting the victim's next, and when he pulled back, blood was dripping-"

"That's enough detail, thank you," said a paling John.

"You don't seem very shaken, Mr. Frazier, especially after such a traumatic event," Sherlock noted.

"Well, frankly, it's not the first dead body I've seen, Mr. Holmes," he grinned.

_Right...everyone here is a potentially dangerous criminal. I need to be careful about what I say._

"Is that all you saw? Any other details you'd like to share?" Sherlock narrowed his eyes.

Frazier thought for a moment, "No, I don't-well, I did quite an expensive-looking ring on his finger. I don't think that'll be of much help, but…"

Sherlock smiled, "Yes, the victim was wearing a ring…"

Frazier nodded approvingly to himself.

"...however, this hand was concealed by a large tarp."

Frazier's smile faded into a scowl.

"In order to have seen the ring, you had to remove the tarp. In other words, you were in the room with the victim ."

"B-But, I-"

"We could easily dust for fingerprints and compare them to yours. I'm sure the results will be _staggering_-"

Frazier's deceiving facade was dissolving, "_Stop it, already! I didn't kill anyone!_" he was turning red, "I was in the wrong place at the wrong time, alright? So stop pestering me and find the bloody dog!"

"Wait a second," John said, "How did you even enter the room in the first place? You have that bracelet on your wrist...it would have triggered an alarm."

Frazier chuckled at this, "Y-Yeah, that's right."

"Then why didn't you tell us that? As your last line of defense, you failed to mention it."

"...I-I…" Frazier was at a loss for words.

"Let me see your bracelet," Lestrade insisted. Frazier reluctantly held out his wrist to let him examine it. Lestrade saw that one of the sensors was damaged.

"It's broken," he concluded. "You could move freely about the prison." He turned to a guard standing nearby, "Excuse me, this prisoner has a broken bracelet. He needs a replacement immediately."

"Oh, er, yes, of course," he seemed panicked, but he jogged away to fetch another bracelet.

Frazier was fuming, "I am not the killer."

"Then how did you know about the ring?"

"...I did enter the room. But it was after the dog had left. I saw them through the window, then hid in Workroom B until I saw the dog leave. Then I went into Workroom A to...er…"

"What? To what?"

Frazier sighed, "I used to be a con artist. I would pretend to be a door-to-door salesman and steal from my customers when they weren't looking."

"Is that why you're here?"

"Well...actually, you could call it a robbery gone wrong," he smirked. "Anyway, I checked to see if the body had anything on him...a watch, jewelry, whatever. That's when I saw the ring, but I decided not to take it. I didn't want to be wrapped up in another murder."

"Why did you scream, then?"

"After I was done searching, I screamed...that way, the 'time of discovery' could be...adjusted to make up for my little spree."

_So he insists he didn't kill him. However...he still seems very suspicious._

"Thank you, Mr. Frazier, for speaking with us," Sherlock nodded and walked away.

John caught up with him, "Do you really think-"

"I don't think he's cleared, no. It feels as though he's more involved than he's letting on. Anyway, enough with him. I think this black dog is worth a visit. He belongs to whoever is in solitary confinement, so we'll start there."

The trio headed to the dark corridor where they had seen the black dog retreat, but they were met with Dimmock, who seemed to be just leaving.

"Greg? What are you still doing here?"

"...I…We were just-"

"No, forget it," Dimmock seemed annoyed, "Look, if you're going to stay, keep an eye out. We just got a report that some evidence has gone missing."

"What?"

"The warden is pretty distraught over it...apparently it was important."

"...Alright, we'll keep that in mind."

"I'll let you three stick around, but if you get in the way of my investigation-"

"Dimmock, just...you have nothing to worry about."

Dimmock nodded, but he was still glaring at them. He stepped around them and continued through another hallway.

"Alright," Lestrade said, obviously relieved, "let's meet our murderer."

* * *

**Recap**

_The body of Marcus Wagner was discovered just before nine o'clock in Workroom A, located in the prison. However, he was kept in the detention cell, so he had no way of accessing the prison. _

_He suffered from a wound to the neck, and death was likely instantaneous. According to Frazier, the prisoner who discovered the body, a large, black dog was biting the victim's neck. This dog supposedly belongs to the prisoner in solitary confinement._

_The body was covered in dirt, as well as a large tarp and a length of rope. The tarp was covering his hand and the ring he was wearing. A portable chessboard was found lying next to the body, as well._

_At the same time that the body was discovered, there was a play taking place in the courtyard, which lasted from 8 to 10 AM. Everyone who attended had an alibi. So far, we know of one person who did not attend: Jack Frazier._

_His account is described in the chapter above._

_Luther Weiss, another prisoner, was told by someone else about a scream, however, he did not hear it himself. _

_Jeremy Cross was arrested for the murder. He visited the victim in detention and brought him his chessboard. Dimmock seems to have some reasoning behind this arrest._


	6. Chapter 5

**So sorry about the long break...kinda lost track of the days. Anyway, here's another chapter! :)**

* * *

**Chapter 5**

**10:51 - Pentonville - Prison - Solitary Confinement**

The cell itself was at the end of a long corridor, hidden away from the rest of the prison. The hall was dimly lit by a few flickering lights in a row along the ceiling. This area was reserved for the more dangerous criminals, which certainly did not bode well. John silently compared the situation to a horror film, but it made no note of it.

The guard unlocked the final door leading to the prisoner's cell and led them inside.

At first, they couldn't see anything. The figure in the cell was obscured by shadows in the dim light. There was the silhouette of a dog next to him, growling at the new visitors. When the guard stepped forward, the dog began barking aggressively, causing the guard to step away.

The prisoner stood from his bed, and his dog suddenly stopped.

"You have some visitors," the guard said.

The prisoner grunted.

Lestrade spoke up, "Sir, we would just like to ask you a few-"

"Gregory Lestrade," the prisoner said. He stepped forward into the light, revealing his face. "I remember you."

Lestrade seemed taken aback. "Hirano…"

Sherlock hadn't seen this face in years. It was an investigation he worked on with Lestrade. Needless to say, it was successful, but he had forgotten about it until now.

The man was tall in stature, but older, with greying hair and a pallid appearance. He seemed ancient in both manner and image. His eyes were glazed and clouded, blind from birth. He was of Japanese lineage, Sherlock remembered, who was born here in London.

"Shoichi Hirano," Sherlock murmured.

Hirano grinned menacingly. "I recognize your voices..." he said.

"Er...Sherlock?"

"This is Shoichi Hirano...an assassin."

Hirano's dog suddenly growled at Sherlock again, the bell around his neck ringing slightly has his head shook. Sherlock tensed up at the sound.

"That was his trademark, the bell. The dog would wear it around his neck. That's how you knew he was coming. It would be the last sound his victims would ever hear.

"Lestrade and I worked together on the investigation. We caught him, of course, and I testified against him in court. I suppose he hasn't quite forgotten."

Hirano smirked, his glassy eyes wandering listlessly.

"But this isn't why we're here," Sherlock seemed to relax a bit, "we need to-"

"The other detective was in here earlier. He didn't find anything regarding the case."

"You know about the investigation?"

"Everything."

Lestrade shifted uncomfortably, "...W-Where were you between 8 and 10 o'clock this morning?"

"Where do you think?" Hirano said irritably as he kicked the bars of his cell.

"So you didn't attend the play?"

"No. Didn't really want to, either."

"Did the other detective search your cell?"

"Yes. But they didn't find any murder weapon."

Sherlock glanced at the dog.

_He knows that we're searching for the murder weapon._

Sherlock stepped closer to the cell to look inside. Lestrade followed along and began asking Hirano more questions.

Inside were several figures of some sort, but it was too dark to make any of them out. They appeared to be carved sculptures.

_Why would they allow a dangerous assassin in solitary confinement such resources?_

Further into the light, Sherlock saw a chessboard with a game already in play. A small scrap of paper was set to the side with a rough drawing on it.

"You play chess?" Sherlock asked, interrupting Hirano and Lestrade.

"...Yes," Hirano seemed pleased the Sherlock had noticed. "I play correspondence chess. Do you know what that is?"

"Two players have their own board and play over long distances, usually sending their chosen move the other player."

"It gives me something to do."

"How do you do it?" John asked, "...I mean...you're…"

Sherlock look closer at the chessboard one of the pieces was different. It looked like it had been sculpted into an odd shape.

"You do not need a proper pair of eyes to play chess," Hirano said.

One of the black pieces resembled a three-headed dog.

"Where has your dog been in the past few hours?" Lestrade asked.

"Kuro? With me, of course. He took a walk without me not long ago, though."

Something within the cell caught Sherlock's eye...a metallic glint reflecting off of something behind the chessboard.

"Why would you ask me where Kuro was?" Hirano asked.

Sherlock changed his angle slowly to see what was it was. It was silver…

"It's just standard procedures," Lestrade said.

It was a blade.

_A chisel?_

The dog, Kuro, apparently, saw Sherlock looking into the cell and began barking. Hirano tried to soothe him as Sherlock stepped away.

He spoke to the guard, "This man is in possession of a chisel. It must be confiscated immediately."

The guard sprung into action. As he unlocked the cell door, Kuro pulled away from Hirano and made an odd movement. He ran back to Hirano as the guard came in.

"Behind the chessboard," Sherlock told him.

"Uh...I-I don't see a chisel, sir."

"What?" Sherlock entered the cell to search with the guard. He searched all around the chessboard, but it seemed that the blade had vanished.

_What the hell?_

"You have no business here," Hirano said. "I have nothing to do with this case."

Sherlock glared at him. Before he could retort, he heard a door slam from outside. He rushed out of the cell to see who had arrived.

Killian, the prison warden, was accompanied by several guards. She seemed surprised by the group of people already present, but didn't bother.

"We need to take Mr. Hirano in for questioning," she told the guard.

* * *

**10:55 AM - Pentonville - Prison - Hallway**

Sherlock, John, and Lestrade had been ushered out of Hirano's cell so they could conduct their interrogation.

"I'm going to have a talk with Dimmock," Lestrade said. "He obviously missed something."

Sherlock nodded. "If you find anything, be sure to tell me."

Sherlock and John were on their own.

"Do you really think that dog killed him?" John asked.

"...It's not impossible."

"H-How?"

Sherlock wasn't sure if he should tell John. "When Hirano was at large...there was a rumor about him."

John seemed tense.

"Some people said that the victim would hear the sound of the bell tied around Kuro's neck. Then the dog would...bite the victim...not enough to kill...and then Hirano would...well…"

"...But that's just a rumor. It was never confirmed...was it?"

"...No…"


End file.
